


Closed Wounds

by Control_Room, phantomthief_fee



Series: Self Indulgent Freckle Stories [11]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: There are reasons that Johan doesn't talk about his past. Some of those reasons are ones that Freckle and Esther are about to find out.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Joey Drew & Joey Drew, Joey Drew/Henry Stein
Series: Self Indulgent Freckle Stories [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603462
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Closed Wounds

“Are you sure that we can just… waltz into his dimension?” Esther asked her brother, raising a brow. 

“I’ve done it before,” Freckle replied with a shrug. “It’s not that hard.” 

Esther gave him an incredulous look. She was not quite referring to the fact that they _could_ go into Johan’s world, rather the fact they had been uninvited, but Freckle took it the other way.

She had decided a bit ago that she wanted to visit Johan. It had been quite a while since they had seen him and Esther had gotten a tad worried about him. Especially considering the state he had been in the last time she had seen him. Upon expressing this to Freckle, he had announced that they could just go there, and had mentioned that ‘he came back from wherever he was before’. While she did not quite know what that part meant, she was glad nonetheless that Johan was around. Additionally, Esther was not thrilled about her brother dabbling in dark magic yet **again** but decided to let it slide for the moment. 

So, she had prepared a little care package and Freckle had constructed a dimensional door. Esther remained a tad worried about just showing up uninvited in Johan’s home, but her concern for him outweighed that.

“Are you ready?” she questioned, feeling antsy, as though something was not quite right. She assumed that it was just because she was about to be involved (again!) in Freckle’s magicks. Granted, this time it was under her request. 

“Are _you_ ready?” Freckle inquired right back with an all too cocky grin. She pursed her lips, squinting. His smile dropped, a glint of fear in his eye, and he turned to his book of whatchamacallit shenanigans. Oh, right! Black goddamn magic. Esther had asked him to get rid of it, but he had held onto it nonetheless. Well, it had some uses, at least. 

He drew out a circle on the ground, muttering under his breath. Instinctively, Esther clutched her package closer to her chest. The air in the room changed as Freckle spoke, becoming heavy and thick. But at the same time, there was an… airy quality to the heavy miasma. As though the very atmosphere could not comprehend what was happening within its borders. 

The circle shifted to rise above the ground, and it shimmered. Brown dots began filling it, and they roamed, all downward, like code gracefully arching down a screen. As Esther stared at it, she realized that the dots followed the same patterns as those on Freckle’s skin - and something told her that Johan designed that door to his world. 

“Huh,” she murmured, a slight smile on her face. 

Freckle exclaimed, “Ta-da!” He flourished his hands like a magician revealing a trick. 

“Well, you certainly did it,” Esther said, hiding a grin behind her hand. “Let’s get going.”

“You could at least **pretend** to be impressed.” Freckle’s smile turned into a pout. 

“Come on,” she replied, blatantly ignoring his comment. She stepped into the portal - and fell straight down, much to her surprise. As far as she remembered from things like this, falling was _not_ a part of the deal. As she fell, she shrieked, and she heard Freckle shout her name.

“Hang on,” he yelped, jumping in after her. Something was amiss. “I’m coming, Essie!” 

He too was panicking a bit. That was **not** how it was supposed to go. It was not his fault, though, he was certain of it. Was this the security system Johan had mentioned? It certainly did not seem like it, but maybe it was a side effect of sorts?

He hit the ground before she did. Or, he assumed he did. He had stopped hearing her screaming a couple of seconds before he slammed to earth. But, dusting himself off and glancing about, he realized that he was standing not on the ground, but in an Alice in Wonderland-esque room. Clearly, it was in Johan’s world because he had never seen such a fantastical building before in his life. It was large, lavishly furnished, the epitome of aristocracy emanating from the objects within. A massive gold chalice with lavender-scented water inside and handwoven towelettes stacked beside it, an oil portrait of a handsome man and an absolutely gorgeous woman (the woman bore a resemblance to Johan), and a carpet worth more than his weight in gold beneath his feet. 

“Alright...” He said slowly, looking around. “This is...new...”

Something about the whole place sat wrong with Freckle. It was unlike Johan, unnervingly so, to be in such a place. Johan was a softhearted man who lived a simple life. The room around him was anything but that. A part of Freckle thought that he could get used to living in a place like this, but that was squashed by his now more rational thinking. What about his family? He would not leave them again, fancy mansion or not. He had hurt enough people with his pursuit of fame and fortune. 

“Jo?” He called out, tentatively making his way down the hall. “You here?”

Laughter came from one of the rooms, at the very end of the distorted walkway. The more Freckle walked, the less real his environment felt, colors faded out as though their original viewer was unable to perceive them in full. The closer he came to the door, he came to recognize the laughter as a woman’s. 

“Don’t follow the weird laughter. Don’t follow the weird laughter,” Freckle whispered to himself. “Don’t. Follow. The. Weird. Laughter.”

Then he followed the weird laughter. 

Opening the door, he came across a very beautiful woman perched in a large loveseat, comfortably smoking a cigarette from a long holder, perfectly balanced in her fingers. She seemed not to notice Freckle, invested in a sheet of paper. 

“Um… excuse me? Miss?” He called out. Miss was the address he instinctively went with when addressing women. It came from his studio days and simply stuck. Anything to sweet talk people into trusting him. 

As he walked up to her slowly, he recognized her as the woman from the portrait. She was even more beautiful in person. However, a smell seeped from the space around her, and he could see the collapsed body of a wizened gentleman on the ground. Maroon stained the floor around him, blood bubbling around a knife in his back. The lady on the chair did not exactly look like the killing sort, but he could not deny the evidence. Freckle, stared, mouth agape, shocked. 

“Ma’am, are you aware that there’s a dead man on the floor beside you?” He asked. 

She still did not notice him and rose her head to call out sweetly, in a voice of glazed cakes and sweet white wine. Her voice was hypnotic, and Freckle felt something in his heart twang. It was the kind of voice you would do _anything_ for. 

“Johan!” she called, dipping a writing quill from a peacock into indigo ink. “Where are you, darling? Oh, there you are. Good.”

Freckle turned to see Johan slip in through a passage previously unknown. When Johan closed the door, Freckle was surprised to see that it was not a door at all, but one of the bookcases concealing a path. His jaw hit the floor when he took in Johan’s appearance. He was not wearing anything noteworthy, but his hair was long, reaching his shoulders and waving past. His glasses were oblong rather than the half-moons Freckle was used to, and his face was devoid of any hair. He was shorter, smaller. 

He was a kid. 

“You requested my presence, Madre?” he spoke, his voice soft. Freckle realized that all the words said around were not in his native tongue, but in Spanish, yet somehow he understood everything perfectly. This young Johan did not see him either. 

“Oh, shit,” Freckle whispered. 

If Johan was a kid, then this must have been one of his memories. Freckle deeply disliked going into the minds of other people. One never knew what one would find in the minds of another person. It was always possible you would come across something you did not want to see. And Freckle had a feeling that whatever this was, he did not want to see it. 

Johan did not talk about his childhood. Freckle had asked, of course, but Johan’s lips remained sealed on the matter, speaking in riddles or not at all. There had to be a reason for that. Good or bad, there had to be a reason why Johan refused to talk about his childhood and his parents. 

Given what he was seeing right now and the ominous feeling he was getting, Freckle was leaning toward bad.

“Come here, boy,” she beckoned. Johan stayed where he stood. She rose a brow, lowering the manuscript she held. Snapping her fingers, she demanded once more. “Come here.”

Johan, his head dropping, obeyed. It was so jarringly unlike the Johan Freckle knew, the Johan that would hold his ground no matter what. He had to admit, even he flinched at the snapping. That dreaded snapping that reminded him of the way his school teachers snapped at him to come up to the front of the classroom to be punished.

“You killed Papa’s lawyer,” he commented, sounding completely unsurprised. She only hummed but shook her head in response. 

Johan’s eye twitched, and his nose wrinkled. “Apologies. You had Papa’s lawyer killed.”

“What a lovely woman,” Freckle said to himself, his own nose wrinkling. His sarcasm hid the fear that was mounting in his chest. 

“Yes, and you’re to dispose of the body,” she melodiously instructed. Johan only stared at her, eyes narrowing. “What is it, child?”

“I will do no such thing,” he snarled. “You can chip a nail or two diggin’ a grave yourse-”

Said nails scratched across his face, the harsh sound of a slap ringing in the now silent room. Freckle inhaled sharply, taking a step back.

“Hold your tongue, _child_ ,” the woman remarked, her voice remaining honey sweet. “If you’d like to fetch one of the servants to do the job, I’m certain they’d be willing to do so for a price.”

“I don’t have any money,” Johan backed up a step, rubbing his cheek. Blood welled between his fingers, growing though the two particularly deep scratches across his face. “Not until I’m eighteen. But then, all the money you’re holding from me will be rightfully mine. So you better spend it quick. I’ll be of age sooner than you’d expect.”

“I guess this makes Jo Cinderella.” Freckle laughed weakly. His mind was racing. If Johan was supposed to inherit a vast sum of money, why had he never heard about it? Why was there no evidence of it? What had happened?

“Sweet, naive, weak Johan,” the woman crooned, beckoning him near once more. He came, apprehensive, worried. Her fingers rested beneath his chin. She held the document up to his eyes, so he could read it. “Do you know what this is?”

Johan’s red eyes, so narrow before, widened with a sharp intake of breath.

“No,” he whispered, not answering her question, but a soft word of denial. The ‘no’ of ‘this could not be happening’. “It… It can’t be….”

  
Freckle wanted to get closer to see what the document was, but he did not want to get anywhere near this woman. Even though she did not seem able to see him, he was still terrified she would tear that gaze of hers onto him and he would become that scared little boy again, paralyzed with fear, and that that silk soft voice would order him about like a puppet.

“Oh, dear,” she sighed, swirling the nib of her pen in the ink. “I wonder, what could you do if I simply… crossed you out?”

Johan’s knees shook. 

“Please… no…” he pleaded his hands clasping together, eyes wide and fearful. “D-don’t….”

A horrible feeling was settling in Freckle’s stomach.

“You know, your father and I had an argument a few days before he was… removed.” The woman’s smile would have been pretty had it not been for the words she said. “About his will. This will. And while it has been fulfilled by the court, as I’m reading this, I can see a lovely loophole. This says that the money will go to you when you are of age, but that _I_ am the one that holds it until then. Now, if I simply write on my own will and testimony that until you are in your own house and independent, that you are under _my_ guardianship, all that money goes to….”

“You,” he breathed, hardly daring to believe. But had this not happened already? Johan glanced at his hands. “It’s… it’s yours.”

“That’s right!” The pride in her voice stung deep into Freckle’s core. “And if I then remove you from the will entirely…?”

“You’d… you’d disinherit me?” The loss in Johan’s voice was overwhelming. A burst poured out from him, and the already dim surroundings turned all the more grey. Johan shivered, blinking away tears. How could this have happened? Why? How could his mother have been so selfish? Was it something he had done? Years later, he still could not understand. Johan looked to his feet, eyes welling with burning tears. “B-but… I’ve been good! Everything you wanted, I did!”

**_Why are you doing this, Mr. Drew? Did I do something wrong?_ **

Freckle swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump he felt in his throat. He knew that tone. That pleading. That confusion. He had heard it so many times before. 

With Grant, with Shawn, with Jack. With Buddy. (God, the things he had done to that kid.) With every one of his employees that he’d used and abused for his ends at the studio.

“Not good enough,” she replied, turning back to the paper. “Now, go off. Get rid of this body. The smell is no longer pleasing.”

Johan, lost, terrified, and heartbroken, looked up.

Right at Freckle.

“S-she never did love me, did she?” The young boy in front of him asked, his shoulders slumping. Red eyes blazed with fiery tears, pleading for an answer. “Freckle, did she?”

“I...” Freckle found his words catching in his throat. “I don’t...”

“Please,” Johan stepped towards him, the fabric of reality cracking around them. The woman was frozen in time, the candlelight stopped mid flicker. “Please, I don’t understand… was I good enough? Am I good enough? Did she love me?”

“You were good enough, Jo,” Freckle said. “You were always good enough. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Did she love me?” The boy asked again, taking Freckle’s hand in his pleas. “Did she love me at all? I need to know.”

“I…” Freckle looked at the woman, seated so nonchalantly upon a cushioned throne, a body beside her and a broken-hearted child in front. He could not lie to Johan. He could not do it. But he did not want to break the boy’s heart further. Looking deep into his eyes, he saw someone else. The older man he knew. These were his memories. Confused, jumbled, hurting. Begging for an answer to scars left untreated. Begging Freckle. What could he say?

“I don’t think she did,” he forced the words out. “I don’t think she loved you, Jo. I’m sorry.”

A blink.

A sigh.

A small, small, pained smile.

“Makes sense,” he breathed, and the remaining seams of reality ripped, and Freckle was thrown back into oblivion. 

Meanwhile, Esther had found herself in a different part of Johan’s dreams. She had landed hard, the package she had been holding flying away. 

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered to herself as she got up, going to fetch the parcel. “Why does magic always end with me getting thrown somewhere? I’m too old to be dealing with this.”

The world built up around her, growing out from her footfalls to the package. She found herself in the same mansion Freckle had, though in a different wing, seemingly a resident’s hall. 

She saw a few paintings as she walked, most seemingly professional, some more amateurish. There was thudding coming from a room at the far end of the hall.

“Excuse me?” Her pace quickened as she made her way towards the noise. “Is someone there?” 

Nearing the sound, she heard a voice mixed into it, along with another sound of life. What was it, though? It was too even to be someone accidentally bumping into something. She reached the door, the rhythmic thudding even louder. 

Thud. A pause for a few seconds. Another thud. The same pause. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something was wrong. She knew this instinctively. She threw open the door. Or, tried to, at least. She phased right through the knob, and from the surprise, dropped into the room. 

A man, broad shoulders blocking out the light from the stand of the corner of the room, stood over a teenager, who trembled on the floor, looking up in fear. A child, really. 

Immediately, Esther tensed, getting to her feet with her hands curling into fists by her sides. 

“Aren’t you going to defend yourself?” The man asked, his voice soft. The soft of kindness, but at the same time, the soft of danger. At first, Esther thought he was talking to her, until he grasped the back of the boy’s shirt collar, pulling him to a stand, but the child’s knees trembled, and he nearly fell once more. The man sighed, either in exasperation or boredom, righting him. “Get up.”

The kid managed to stay on his feet, brushing back his hair with a trembling hand. Esther gasped when she saw his face, realizing it was Johan.

“Jo?” Her voice trembled. He looked so young. “Jo, what’s going on?” She rounded on the man. “What are you doing to him?!”

Neither he nor the man noticed her, and as the man took a step towards Johan, she hated to admit she felt grateful he could not see her. The man was imposing, vast, strong, and he could probably break her back easier than snapping a twig. 

Still, she had never been particularly clever when defending those she cared about. She could not count how many times she’d charged into a fight with someone far bigger than her when she had been young to protect Freckle. 

He took another step, and then - thud.

The fist the size of her head smacked into Johan’s chest, eliciting a “hrk!” before he doubled over, panting with one hand on his knees, the other grasping his chest. There was a pause. 

“Still not defending yourself?” That soft voice asked, almost smilingly in tone. Another hit rounded onto Johan’s shoulder, sending him tumbling to the desk by the wall. “Come on. It’s not fun when you don’t put up a fight. Did Rico put you up to this? Told you that if you take it I’ll be easy on you?”

Esther saw red. “Get away from him!” She yelled, running at the man. She passed right through him, though. Despite this, she kept trying. 

Another uppercut sent Johan sprawling, only able to stay upright because of the wall. He braced himself against it, breathing shallow and slow, as the man approached once more.

“Leave him alone!” Esther yelled as she continued to throw herself at the man. She was starting to cry from frustration, transported back to being a child, unable to keep herself or Freckle safe from the threats beyond their home.

“I don’t want to fight,” Johan breathed, a bit of blood slipping from his mouth as he spoke. He sounded bored, himself, but it probably was his body placing himself into shock. “I just want to go to bed.”

“How’s this for that?” The man questioned with a chuckle, a backhand going straight to his head, slamming him into the bedpost a yard away. “You’re at your bed. Are you going to fight back yet? Or am I just going to keep this up and make your body match your hair?” 

“Just let me go to sleep,” the boy pleaded, gripping the post, with shaky hands. “I d-don’t want to fight. I want to, to sleep. I have a, a test-st t-tomorrow, and I wan-”

“Ugh, shut your mouth!” The man barked, kneeing him in the stomach. “You can’t even talk right! Why do I bother and waste my time with you?”

“Please, stop,” Esther begged, collapsing to the ground in tears. She could not bear to watch this. She had come to see Johan as a little brother, or a son. He reminded her so much of Freckle when he had been young. Seeing him pummeled like this reminded her of all those days Freckle would come home from school beaten and bloody from bullies, or his hands bruised from the teacher’s ruler. 

“Please don’t,” Johan gasped, tears blurring his sight. “Don’t waste your time o-on m-”

“One. More. Fucking. Stutter.” The man leaned close to Johan, gripping the back of his neck. “And I’ll snap your gullet like a chicken’s. Understood?”

“Yessir,” he whispered, freezing. “Can I.” A swallow held back his tongue. “Can I go to sleep.” He struggled with his words, enunciating each syllable. “Now please?”

The man hauled Johan up from where he gripped him and tossed him onto the bed. The boy, exhausted, made no move to pull the blanket around himself.

Footsteps left, and the door slammed. A key turned in the lock. The lamp, knocked down from when Johan had crashed into the desk, was off. The only light was the moonlight streaming through the window, tracing each of the tears that rolled off Johan’s face. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Esther whispered, getting to her feet and walking over to the bed. “I’m so sorry.” She hoped that man was not his father, but she felt she already knew the answer to that. 

“For. What?” Johan questioned, still pronouncing each sound with terrified care. “You. Tried. You didn’t. Do anything. Bad.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Esther said as she knelt beside his bed. “You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. No child does.” 

He was quiet for a moment.

“Really?”

“Really. No one deserves to be treated like that. No one.” 

Now that she was calming herself down, she was reminded of what she had learned over the years. Lashing out in violence was never the answer. It only ever made things worse. 

“But wh-what-” He froze, eyes widening, stiffening, a hand covering his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Esther smiled gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What if I want t-to hurt him back?” Johan whimpered, curling up on his blanket. “He’s n-not my father, he’s the man who t-took him from me, and M-Madre married him, knowing that. What if I want to hurt h-him back?”

“It’s natural that you’d want to hurt him since he hurt you,” Esther assured him. “But retaliating with violence only ever leads to more violence. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“He l-likes when I f-fight back,” Johan shivered. “I d-don’t think sometimes. I just. Fight. Is… does that make m-me… bad? Esther, I killed his brother in self d-defense. He tried to cut my heart out. And h-him, when I fight him b-back, am I bad? I… I f-feel bad. Am I bad?”

“Defending yourself is different from deciding to hurt someone.” She kept her voice calm and even as she spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself from people who want to hurt you.”

The room grew dark.

“Ok.” Johan exhaled. “Ok.”

And the dream shattered, and Esther was pushed out back into the railways of Johan’s mind.

“Well, I need to give him a hug when I see him,” she said to herself. Her care package was lost at this point, she supposed. Until it dropped right into her hands, a gift from the criss-cross thought processes. 

“Huh.” She shrugged and started walking again.

“Esther!” Freckle shouted, eyes lighting up as he saw her, picking himself up from off the ground. 

She whipped around when she heard his voice, a smile growing on her face. “Joey!”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Freckle hugged her.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Esther asked. 

“No.” Freckle shook his head. “But I’m pretty sure it’s something with Johan’s side of the door.”

“It certainly seems like it,” Esther agreed. She did not mention what she had seen. Better not to divulge Johan’s secrets. 

“Let’s get going,” Freckle took her free hand, holding it tight. “We can find a way to Jo together.”

  
Esther nodded, allowing her brother to pull her along. He seemed shaken. She wondered if he had seen something similar to what she had.

The world warped around them, forming just as it had destroyed itself prior. They did not quite notice it until it was done. 

“Oh, not again,” Freckle groaned. “What is it this time?!” Esther could hear a fearful bite in his words that worried her. Just what had he seen before?

“Dreams are tricky things, aren’t they?” Johan’s voice said from beside them. They both snapped to look at him. All they saw was a window leading to a void of ones and zeros. “Lucid dreams are even more contrived. Shared lucid dreams are yet all the more odd. And teleporting during a shared lucid dream? Fascinating.”

Freckle and Esther looked at each other. There was the same thud and laughter that they had both heard before. 

A shiver ran through each of them at once, Freckle swearing under his breath and Esther holding the care package tighter to her chest.

There was a scream.

This time, the door in front of them slammed open, the blue-haired youth dashing out, a broad palm grasping onto his arm, yanking him back. 

“No! No! Let me go!” Johan shrieked, thrashing to escape, angry and pained tears trailing down his face. “P-please, lemme go!” 

“Him again.” Esther’s eyes narrowed at the sight of that large hand. She already knew who it belonged to.

“Johan, darling, this really is unreasonable.” The woman smiled, letting out an airy chuckle. The teenager stared at her with venom in his eyes. She swirled her long cigarette holder in the air, causing a wisp of smoke to twist into his face. “Being a father wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“Are you mad?!” he screamed, eyes wide, and at the same time, enraged. “I don’t want to b-be a father!”

“You will be, if all went according to plan,” the man shook his arm, sending a jolt through his whole body. “Can’t have our little money maker vanish away just like that. You made a bet, and you lost.”

“Oh God,” Freckle whispered, latching onto Esther’s arm. He knew what had just happened. He did not need to see it to know what was going on. 

Esther said nothing, drawing Freckle to her chest. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“You cheated!” was Johan’s rather weak reply torn by loss and exhaustion. “Y-you drugged me!”

“Let him go, dad.” Another, new voice, came in, a young man, not much older than Johan was then, with a similar form as the man gripping Johan’s arm so tightly it was sure to bruise. But the younger version of the brute was unable to help, a door of bars between himself and the other three within the room. “Let him go. Just let him leave.”

“Shut it, Ricardo,” the older man told him, and his mouth snapped shut. “That’s better. No, we can’t have Johan leave now. Atabulus’ money is sent to him monthly. He’s to stay here until those funds are drained, then he can leave, penniless.”

Atabulus. That was Johan’s father’s name. He had mentioned it when they had come over for tea, months prior. Esther had not seen what Freckle had, but she could piece the context clues together to understand the situation. 

“Just… just kill me already,” Johan whispered, resigned, limp in the grip of the much older man. “Then the money will go to you, anyways.” 

“Oh, we can’t do that, honey,” his mother crooned, tapping the end of her cigarette to the underside of his jaw, making him wince. “The court’s got their eyes on Paul. We could _never_ let anything come to harm our dear son Johan.”

“Those bastards!” Esther growled, her grip on Freckle tightening. Freckle said nothing, although one thought was on loop in his mind.

_They’re gonna try to_ **fix** me. They’re gonna try to **fix** me.

He was not even focusing on the money anymore. As soon as the word “father” had left the woman’s mouth, that had been all he could think about. That was his worst nightmare. That someone would try to “fix” him in that way. He wanted to look away. But he could not.

Paul, as they knew his name to be now, dragged Johan to one of the marble pillars. There was a chest by the base and he opened it, still keeping a grip on Johan. A golden chain glinted and a shackle clicked onto Johan’s wrist. 

“That should be long enough to allow you to roam about the Estate,” Paul smiled, speaking with his soft, soft voice. Johan said nothing, sliding down the pillar, completely drained of energy. He had no fight left in him, unable to move, shocked into freezing. “I made sure of it. You can even go a few feet out, to the stable, so you can see that horse of yours. This isn't so bad, is it?”

“No sir,” was the reply, devoid of any emotion. Shell shocked. A deer in the headlights. 

Esther gritted her teeth. How could that woman just stand back and let this happen?! This was her **_son_**! How could she let that man treat Johan this way?! 

The woman, as Esther stared at her venomously, came forward with a slow swing to her step. 

She knelt to Johan, the cigarette holder in her hand dangling precariously from her fingertips.

“You would make a rather good servant, dear,” she murmured, the smile she wore this whole while growing wider. “Your bite has been removed, so after your bark has been too… well. You’d do quite nicely indeed.”

Johan only looked at her with half-closed eyes. The dead look in his eyes broke Esther’s heart. He looked resigned to his fate.

She got up, driving the cindering end of the cigarette onto Johan’s shoulder blade, putting it out against his skin. He merely winced - used to the burn. 

She extended her hand out to Paul, who lowered his arm beneath it. They were the very image of aristocracy. 

“Ta ta!” She waved to Ricardio, who banged a fist against the bars. “We’re going out to the theater. I hear Lee Marvin is playing.”

“They’re just going to leave him?!” Esther took a step toward them but Freckle dragged her back. His gaze was still fixed on Johan. 

The heavy doors swung shut behind the couple. 

“Johan,” Ricardio called, shaking the bars, trying to loosen them. “Johan, are you ok?”

The younger looked towards him slowly and pushed himself off the ground. The chain shackled to his wrist dragged against the floor as he walked, the sound of a snake following. He managed to reach his stepbrother and took his hand through the bars. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again,” Johan replied after a moment. He sank against the bars and Ricardio sighed sadly, sitting beside him, separated by metal. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Esther whispered. 

“Jo....” Freckle whimpered. 

The floors broke under their feet, yet suddenly they rose.

“Ah, are they awake Henry?” Johan’s voice said aloud, but darkness clouded their vision. Blinking out sleep, they woke up. “Good! Rise and shine, s-sleeping beauties! Heavens, I’ve seen people portal jump in their sleep, but hardly ever dually!”

Almost immediately, Esther sprung up and wrapped her arms around Johan, hugging him tightly as she ran a hand through his hair. Freckle remained on the couch, recognizing it as Johan’s, sitting up and hugging his knees. His whole body shook and his breathing was panicked and ragged. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered to himself. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“Holy hell, you guys look traumatized,” Johan remarked furrowing his brow. He patted Esther’s back. “Henry, darlin’, could you grab the teapot and some teas? I’m pretty sure I set it before I went to find their minds.” 

Henry nodded and left the room to find the requested items.

“Now, whatever did you two see that got you all jittery?” Johan asked. “There’s some odd stuff floatin’ around in my head. Oh, and by the by - since you two only jumped worlds in your dreams, you went straight to my head. I had to manually code your bodies back and then had to go on a wild goose chase for your minds.”

“Thank you for getting us out,” Esther said as she pulled away. She still kept a hand on Johan, though.

“I should have been more careful.” Freckle took a few deep breaths, calming himself enough to uncurl from his position. “Sorry for making you rescue us.” He managed a weak smile.

Henry returned at that point with a tray bearing teapots and some teacups. 

“No, no, don’t apologize,” he waved a hand, thanking Henry for the tea. “Just make s-sure that you’re awake next time you’re about to use magic! Besides that… are you two okay?”

“Not really,” Esther admitted, her smile fading.

“Mm,” Johan sat on the love seat, Henry making him scootch to sit with him, resting his head on Johan’s chest. Johan poured for each of them a cup of tea. “Is there anything you’d want to talk about? I’m all ears!”

With that said, he smiled, wiggling his elf-like ears with a wink, hoping they would smile. Goodness, they seemed so shaken, the poor dears. What eldritch horror had they seen?

This did elicit a chuckle from Freckle and an ‘aaw’ from Esther.

“We got lost in your memories,” Esther explained. “And we saw… some rather awful things.”

“I get why you don’t talk about your past now,” Freckle added.

Johan winced. Ray looked up at him brow furrowing, taking his hand and squeezing it.

“Ah,” Johan delicately set his cup down. “Well. The past is the past, isn't it? So, pray tell, what can I do for you in the present? If you’d like to discuss that issue, I… I understand.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Esther got out the care package. “I hadn’t seen you in a bit and I was concerned. Especially given the state you were in last time.” 

“I was… a little worried too,” Freckle agreed. 

Esther held out the care package with a soft smile.

“Would ya look at that,” Johan seemed taken aback, but he smiled, taking the package gently. “Y’all being concerned about lil’ ol’ me.” 

“She’s pretty much five seconds away from adopting you at all times,” Freckle laughed. “Probably even more so now.”

“I see,” Johan rose a brow. He looked tired, but grateful for their presence.

“If your mother and that man **_Paul_ **are still alive, I would very much like to have a word with them.” Esther’s expression darkened and she spat Paul’s name as though it were poison. It seemed as though she wanted to have more than a word with them. 

Johan jolted, jumping up, eyes wide. 

“Excuse me please,” Johan fumbled with his own words, rushing off to a different area in the apartment. 

“Joey-” Henry got up, reaching towards him, but he was already gone. His hand fell to his side. “Shit.” He looked at the two guests. “God, I’m sorry, Johan hates hearing about them.”

“Oh, right. Of course. I shouldn’t have brought them up.” Esther’s dark expression turned to one of shame. What had she been thinking? “I should apologize when he comes back.”

“No, he’s…” Henry sighed. “Look, he’s been trying to reconcile himself with them. Of where he stands and who they are to him. It’s been bothering him a lot lately. I guess hearing it made it all the more… real.”

“But I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Esther insisted. She could not help but feel ashamed of bringing such a sensitive subject up without a single thought as to how it would affect Johan. 

Freckle got up, following Johan. He was not going to force him to talk. He just wanted to make sure Johan was alright. He wanted to hug Johan and apologize. He did not want to be like Johan’s mother or step-father. He did not want to be that kind of monster.

Johan bumped into him as he left the bathroom, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“Hey.” Freckle looked exhausted, but there was also quite a bit of concern for Johan in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Just… Just shook up is all,” he replied, quietly. “Wasn’t expecting any of that to be what you’ve seen in my head.”

“We didn’t expect it either.” Freckle laughed weakly. “Sorry we went snooping in your head. We didn’t mean to, not that that counts for much.” The laugh quickly petered off, though, and Freckle awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“Look, I… I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Now that he was mostly human again, there were streaks of grey developing among the dusty black. “That you went through… all that. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

Freckle could not feel guilty about all the horrible things he had done all over again. He had no excuse for his cruelty. His parents had been kind and loving, supporting him and keeping him safe to the best of their ability. Sure, he had endured endless torment by his schoolmates and teachers, but Esther and his parents had always told him that holding grudges would only hurt **him** in the end. And it had. 

Johan looked to the side, eyes tired, eyes sad, but alive.

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have known,” Johan assured him, patting his shoulder with a criss-cross scarred hand. “It was my mind, after all. I feel… I felt better about some of it, after I woke up this morning. Then I noticed your souls hovering around and realized that something was off, and the rest is history. So thank you.”

“Did we… help?” Freckle frowned. How could they have helped? They had just barged in and mucked around with everything. 

“I do feel better,” Johan repeated, softly smiling at him. “I don’t remember my dreams… but I feel as though… something’s been reconciled.”

Johan extended his hand for Freckle to take. Instead, the shorter man enveloped him in a tight hug, squishing his cheek against his chest, eyes filling with tears as he looked at the pin right before him. 

“I’m sorry,” he began to sob. “I’m so so sorry.” He was not apologizing to Johan at that moment, but to all the people he had hurt when he had been like Johan’s mother. And perhaps he was apologizing to Johan a bit for having to live through what was Freckle’s worst nightmare. 

Johan hugged him back, rubbing his back and running a hand through his hair. 

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Johan spoke, with his gentle voice - it may not have been soft, it may not have been honey sweet, but it was gentle, truly gentle. “I’m okay. Really.”

Freckle nodded, hugging Johan tighter. 

“Are you two alright?” Esther’s voice came from around the corner. She had gotten worried as to how long they had been gone and had come looking.

“We’re fine!” Freckle yelled back, his voice muffled by Johan’s chest.

“Alright.” There was a beat of silence. “Well, when you two are ready, I’d like to make sure the tea I brought for Johan is to his tastes.”

“Yeah,” Freckle mumbled.  
  


They stayed hugging for a moment or two longer before heading back to the living room, both feeling much better. Esther was relieved to see Johan looking better. 

“I’m sorry if the teas aren’t the kind you like,” she said as she opened up the package and began setting out the sachets of tea. “I wasn’t sure what to bring so I just grabbed a few.” There were a few packets of black tea, one of white, and one green.

Johan smiled. “All tea is good tea.”

“Amen,” Henry nodded solemnly in agreement. 

“I’m glad.” Esther smiled, laying out the rest of the package. There were a few cookies wrapped up in plastic, a small bottle of honey, and some dried fruit.

“The cookies are from Robert,” she explained. “He made them the other day and thought you might like a few.”

“Thank you,” Johan gratefully smiled. “It truly means a great deal. Be sure to send my regards.”

“I will.” Esther’s smile widened. “The fruit is from Rachel. She said you needed to have something healthy along with the cookies. She wanted to include vegetables, but I thought that might be a bit difficult to transport.”

“Sounds like something I would want to do,” Henry chuckled. “I’ll make sure he eats something. Like a carrot.”

“Ugh. Carrots,” Freckle groaned. 

“Carrots are good for you,” Esther said, swatting at his shoulder. Freckle stuck his tongue out at her. 

The rest of the visit was uneventful. They drank tea and talked quietly. When Freckle and Esther rose to go, Johan hugged them both tightly. 

“I’m glad you came over,” Johan told them when he let go. “Please, come by anytime you’d like. Just, maybe not in your dreams.”

“We’ll try not to do that again,” Esther assured him, giving Freckle a pointed glance. 

“Yeah, I’m not trying that again,” he agreed. 

They hugged Johan one more time and departed, managing to get back home without a hitch.

**Author's Note:**

> Freckle and Esther belong to @phantomthief_fee  
> Johan belongs to @Control_Room


End file.
